


In the Rain, The Pavement Shines Like Silver

by commas_and_ampersands



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, Kissing in the Rain, Musical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commas_and_ampersands/pseuds/commas_and_ampersands
Summary: Les Miserables is just so sad.





	In the Rain, The Pavement Shines Like Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Written May 2009; minor edits January 2018.

“It’s just so  _sad_.”  
  
“I know, Minako.”  
  
“He was just a little kid! All he wanted to do was help. Why did they have to shoot a poor little boy?”  
  
“Because Victor Hugo is a glorious bastard.”  
  
“And  _Eponine_! She is infinitely better suited to Marius, but does he bother to realize that? No. Because he’s too busy chasing the useless ingénue. And she dies in his arms and it’s all for him and he doesn’t even  _care_.”  
  
“Don’t you tend to get cast as the ingénue?”  
  
“Yes, but I’m not so dithering and whiny about it. And infinitely better looking.”  
  
They come out of the theater to find that it’s raining. The water comes down in sheets so thick that the world seems overlaid in speckled grey. Everything smells clean and fresh, and the weather provides a soundtrack made of tiny timpani (accompanied by the bass groans of various other patrons as they realize the weather forecast was wrong).  
  
Luckily, he’s the sort of man that’s naturally distrustful of meteorologists. He holds up the black umbrella and flicks it open with the push of a button. Ignoring the envious rumblings of the other audience members, he glances down at his date.  
  
She’s beautiful, but then, he’s never found her not to be. Her luxurious blonde hair is piled on top of her hair in a meticulous stack of golden curls pinned into place. Not for the first time that evening, he finds himself longing for a moment when he can pull them out and bury his hands in her hair once more. Topaz glitters at her throat and her ears, and normally, they are a perfect match for her eyes, but the normally radiant blue is ringed with red. Her mascara is smeared in a way that almost looks intentional.  
  
He does not consider what she is wearing because it is a very long cab ride home.  
  
“Off we go, then,” he says, moving forward and bringing her along since her elbow is hooked over his.  
  
A palm on his chest stops him, and really, he doesn’t think it’s fair that she can touch him almost anywhere in public, but he’s relegated to her arms and nothing more.  
  
Her eyes are still shining with the thin veil of tears, but there’s another spark hiding behind her theatrical grief. It’s the spark that makes Artemis dive behind couches and everyone else but him and Rei back away from her as though she is a bomb about to go off. As usual, he arches an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m sensing that you have a plan.”  
  
“Are your senses  _tingling_?”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “Well, so much for mourning Gavroche then.”  
  
“It is tragic and horrible and if I ever meet Mr. Webber I will kick him for this show and for  _Phantom of the Opera_  – because Raoul is just as stupid and if there were any justice in the world he and Cosette would go off and be useless and whiny together. But little Gavroche and dear Eponine would not want me grieving forever.”  
  
He decides not to point out that Phantom and Les Mis are both adaptations, so kicking Webber is pointless in the extreme.  Although probably still quite satisfying.  “Or even for ten minutes apparently.”  
  
She pokes him with her nail. Judging by the look on her face and the way she shakes out her hand, she regrets the decision. He is tempted to make a comment about abs of steel (although it’s more like something Nephrite would say), when she pushes the umbrella away and starts to lead him out from underneath the awning. “Come on.”  
  
He looks at the clouds meaningfully. “That’s not a special effect you know.”  
  
She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”  
  
She pulls back, her fingers ghosting over his flesh as she slips away. His skin aches for her when she’s gone. She does not simply walk but dances backwards, spinning into the downpour. She shrieks and laughs as the cold water hits her skin, but she never stops moving. She twirls and she giggles and she shines so brightly she hardly seems human anymore.  
  
He watches her greedily, envying her spontaneity and vivacity. When he closes the umbrella and sets it down, following her, it is not a sudden decision but a calculated move. He doesn’t understand the psychology of surprises, and so he can do nothing but act with purpose for even the most minor occurrences.  
  
She has no such qualms, and perhaps that is why she’s the only person alive who can catch him off guard.  
  
She’s still laughing, open-mouthed and sparkling when she dances into him, throwing herself into his chest with her whole body. She offers him no warning when she twines her arms around his neck and kisses him with almost reckless abandon. Her lips are wet, and she tastes like water and the wine from dinner. Her body against his keeps him warm against the chill. Drops of rain slip down their faces like tears and slip into their mouths.  
  
When they part, she exhales. He can see her breath. “I don’t take it lightly.”  
  
He hates that he knows her so well and yet not at all, that half the time he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Hm?”  
  
“Death.” She looks at him, and he wonders if she’s crying again. “Just because I like to be happy better… it doesn’t mean I’m not still sad.”  
  
He runs his palms up her bare, slick arms, marveling at this confusing, amazing creature who stays with him when he knows he doesn’t deserve her. “You know I don’t think that.”  
  
“I know. And I know it doesn’t even count because they didn’t really die.” Her teeth drag across her pink lips, turning them red. “But I need you to know, in case… something ever happens, I’ll need you to let me cry, and then I’ll need you to help me pretend everything’s okay. It’ll keep me sane, and it’ll help me… fix it as best as I can.”  
  
_It will help me get revenge._  
  
He slips his hands into her quickly deteriorating hairstyle. “All right. I will.”  
  
She smiles, a pearl flash in the gloom. “Good.”  
  
“But you pick the strangest times for these conversations.”  
  
“And that’s why you love me.”  
  
When he answers, he doesn’t so much speak as growl. “I can think of a few other reasons.”  
  
She shivers, and then she’s got that manic look in her eye again.  
  
“Ever done it in the rain?”


End file.
